


When The Stars Go Blue

by Hannyski



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-04
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-03 12:14:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1070355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannyski/pseuds/Hannyski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During the early stages of X Factor 2010, two boys met in a bathroom. One went on to win, becoming the world famous household name Harry Styles. The other boy was dropped, but always kept a close eye on the success of the winner. </p><p>A chance meeting and some meddling from his friends drops university student Louis Tomlinson back into Harry's world of overnight fame and success, but at what cost?</p><p>(An early draft of this story was published over the course of last year on whenthestarsgobluefic.tumblr.com, that's now changed to a private archive so I can publish the more polished version over here)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was raining. Quite a lot, even by England’s standards – Louis had his hands over his head, shielding his meticulously straightened hair from the onslaught. He ducked into one of the university bars – empty tonight, Louis noted to himself, walking in and spotting his friends in their usual seats.

“Hey, where are the girls?” he asked his flatmate, Zayn.

“Since when are you so interested in girls?” Zayn joked, kicking Louis under the table as he took a swig of beer. “They’ve gone to see your boyfriend.”

“Was that tonight?” Louis tried to sound casual. Of course - Harry Styles was coming to their university that night to play a concert. It had sold out in minutes – not that Louis had checked. Or tried to buy tickets from Zayn’s girlfriend. That would’ve been totally ludicrous.

“Wait, why is Harry Styles his boyfriend?” enquired Liam, a friend from Zayn’s course.

“What… you haven’t heard the story? I thought Louis had told everyone within a 30-mile radius…” Zayn sniggered. “They met in a bathroom and Lou hit on him, and now Harry’s a superstar.”

“I did not hit on him!” Louis protested. “We met at the auditions, yeah… he got through, I didn’t … that could be me playing the student union tonight but… well. That’s life.”

“And you’re not the least bit sad you can’t see him again tonight? Maybe your eyes’ll meet in the crowd and he’ll remember you?”

“Nope. Too painful, seeing what could’ve been.”

“Do you mean the fame and fortune? Or Harry?” Zayn winked.

“Okay, I’ll get the next round.” Louis said quickly, seeing that Zayn had drained his glass and using the excuse to walk away from the topic.

“Two beers and a vodka and coke please,” Louis asked the bartender, pre-emptively sensing that he’d need something stronger than beer to get through Zayn’s mockery tonight (and maybe a little part of him was bitter he wasn’t going to the gig). Picking up the glasses precariously, he whirled round and bumped into a taller boy, spilling beer down both of them.

“Shit, sorry.” Louis said, looking up to glance at the person he’d just assaulted, placing the sloshing drinks back onto the bar. The boy was wearing sunglasses and Louis suddenly felt a lot less guilty – he mustn’t have been looking where he was going either. “Is it that sunny outside?” He teased, knowing full well that it had been pouring with rain minutes earlier, and the sun had almost set.

“Oh… nah…” The boy replied. There was something familiar about him – the way he stood, his voice, the curve of his smile. It was dimly lit in the pub, and the boy pulled off his sunglasses sheepishly. Louis stepped back a little. “Oh… you’re…” Everything fell into place. Here he was, once more, transfixed by the brilliant green eyes of Harry Styles. Except this wasn’t the scared, 16 year old X Factor contestant splashing his face with water with shaking hands – this was the worldwide multiplatinum selling artist. Louis struggled to reconcile his few memories of Harry with the boy – more of a man, now – standing in front of him. Same eyes, same dimples, same open, raw trust in his eyes – the industry had been good to him.

“Sorry man,” Harry said, reaching for a napkin to dab down Louis’ chest. “Sssh, yeah? I’m just here to get a quick drink… nerves and all…” he muttered, returning his sunglasses to his face. Louis took the napkin from Harry’s hand nervously, their fingers brushing for a second longer than necessary. A shiver ran through him.

“Are you even old enough to drink?” Louis asked before he could stop himself, and Harry cracked up, showing rows of perfect white teeth.

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” Harry winked, picking up Louis’s drink, pressing a £10 note into Louis’s hand and disappearing so quickly Louis wondered if he imagined him altogether. He walked the remaining beers back to their table in a haze.

“Hey… you pulled! Who was that? Did you get his number?” Zayn probed, reassuring Louis that he was not so lonely that he had started hallucinating pop stars. “You already got into a wet t-shirt competition… the best way to begin a relationship!”

“It was Harry Styles.” Louis said weakly, his voice giving out as he handed the boys their drinks.

“What? Are you serious? No… he’s… well he’s here, but not here!” Liam exclaimed, disbelief crossing his face.

“He wasn’t a student. He gave me £10 for my drink. No sane student would do that,” Louis commented, smoothing out the note on his jeans. “It was him. I’d know him anywhere.”

“Wow… Louis, you do realise that makes him the one that got away… twice?”

“Don’t.” Louis warned, eyes flashing.

“You need to find him again.” Zayn demanded. “Go to the stage door after his performance!” He instructed Louis, waving his arms like a fairy godmother.

“Or whatever the student union equivalent is…” Liam added.

“And say what? ‘Hey Harry, Sorry I poured cheap beer over your expensive shirt, remember when we cried in the bathroom together?’”

“That’s a start. I think you should open with the bathroom and leave out the crying though.”

“You’re crazy. I am not going to stake out the stage door.” Louis shook his head vehemently at his friends, who had decided to take on the role of his fairy godmothers. “This is not a teen romance movie!” Louis paused. “…He didn’t even remember me.” He admitted, a pain searing through his chest to hear it out loud.

“Louis. You owe him the change from your drink. It’s rude otherwise. You don’t want to be in debt.” Liam reminded him, not taking no for an answer. Louis stroked the tenner he’d stuffed into his pocket subconsciously with his thumb, considering.

“Okay. You can buy me my next drink then.” Louis narrowed his eyes, already regretting going along with this crazy plan.

“No. You need to go change.” Zayn waved his hand over Louis’s shirt, where a stain was already beginning to develop. “We’ll meet you at the union at around 9:45, then you can get into prime position to win Harry’s heart. Then you can stop hanging around our room moping and listening to his songs through headphones when you think I can’t hear!”

“I…” Louis hesitated, heart in his throat.

“Go!” Louis didn’t need telling again.

 

Louis rifled through his closet impatiently, leaving a trail of clean shirts in his wake as he searched for the perfect top. Settling on a striped jumper in case it was a long wait, he attempted to take a leisurely wander down to the student union, looking around fruitlessly for anyone with big fluffy dark hair and long skinny legs. Settling down on the wall around the back of the venue, he strained his ears, hearing Harry’s voice and a few hundred feminine screams faintly whenever a door opened somewhere inside. Pulling out his iPhone, he tapped a text to Zayn.

“What now? X”

“Where are u? ;) bet hes w8in 2 cya x”

“Zayn, please text like a human. I cannot understand you. X”

“K, dont b stroppy :( the show will b over soon x”

“Then what? X”

There was no reply. Louis groaned and slipped his phone back into his pocket, drumming his fingers on his knees. Just as Zayn said, the faint music ended around 20 minutes later, and a swarm of girls materialised around the stage door, clutching merchandise and chattering excitedly. Louis rolled his eyes – these were meant to be university students, how childish – then he realised he too was waiting for the star who was miles out of his league.

Harry appeared 10 minutes later, and began signing shirts and CDs, smiling weakly and hugging the girls as they pawed at him. Louis hung back, feeling uncomfortable and unsure of what he was even doing there. The crowd soon dispersed and Harry’s security guard noticed Louis loitering.

“Need something, mate?” He asked gruffly. Harry spun around and his face went from a fading smile to a grin that lit up his entire face.

“Hey, can you go get me a drink?” Harry patted his security guard’s arm, eyes not leaving Louis, as though he was afraid that if he looked away Louis would be gone.

“I’m not supposed to leave you out here, you’ve got a intervie-“

“I’ll be fine. I’ve got…”

“Louis.” Louis supplied softly.

“Right. I’ve got Louis here to look after me, and the girls have all gone. It’s fine. A few more minutes won’t make a difference,” Harry said firmly, doing all but pushing his hulking guard back through the door with a charming smile.

“Hey.” Louis said. “You… took my drink.” He added, mentally kicking himself. Dammit, Lou. Couldn’t you think of something better to say?

“Yeah… sorry. I’ll be 18 in a week, then I can buy my own drinks… just needed some courage. Uni girls are crazy, man.” Harry smiled lazily, his eyes crinkling.

“Wouldn’t know,” Louis muttered, then, catching himself, “anyway. You gave me way too much money, so here.” He offered a handful of change to Harry lamely, loathing himself more and more by the second.

“What?” Harry asked, genuinely surprised. “That’s why you came here? To… pay me back? Because really, it’s fine, you didn’t need to-”

“Take it.” Louis firmly pressed it into his hand. He paused, still gripping Harry’s hand, reluctant to let go. Harry placed his other hand on top of their clasped fingers, a challenge flashing in his eyes.

“Can I get your number? Then you can keep this money and you can buy me another drink.” Louis jumped, the abrupt change in topic making his heart beat faster than he thought was possible. Before he knew it, Harry was pressing his phone into his hand and he was punching in his number with a shaking thumb.

“Great.” Harry smiled at him again - a kind, genuine smile that made Louis’ toes curl. “I’ll call you.” He squeezed Louis’s arm. Louis stood awkwardly, unsure of what to do next. He had a sudden urge to kiss him… but something held him back – a voice asking him if Harry was even gay. Maybe he was just humouring a fan, and he’d never call and Zayn was right, he was the one that got away… three times. Harry’s security guard reappeared with a bottle of water, eying his phone critically.

“Come on Harry, your management is gonna be pissed if they’re kept waiting any longer, and you better not oversleep tomorrow. See ya around, kid.” He nodded at Louis before firmly guiding Harry away. Harry threw an apologetic glance over his shoulder, miming a phone with his hands as he disappeared.


	2. Chapter 2

Louis groaned on the trek back to his halls as the sky unleashed new torrents of rain. He felt his phone buzz a few minutes later and his heart soared as he opened the text, sighing to see it was from Zayn as he shielded the screen from the rainwater with a trembling hand.

“Wat happned?! ;) X”

“I gave him my number… I’ll be home in 5 mins X”

“Get in there!! Has he called yet? J X”

“No! It’s been twenty minutes, Zayn, give him a chance. X”

“LARRY! X”

“His name is Harry, Zayn. X”

“You 2 2gether will b Larry! U dont have 2 say he was the 1 that got away X”

“He probably won’t even call. Don’t get your hopes up Zayn x”

“You mean dont get -ur- hopes up x”

Louis rolled his eyes. Zayn was right as always – he was getting incredibly ahead of himself. For all he knew, Harry thought he was a stalker and had already deleted his number. He began running through situations in his head, each more and more self-deprecating. Harry was straight and had a bet on to pull the gayest guy he could find on tour. Harry felt sorry for him because he was an ugly loser and thought he’d try and cheer him up. By the time he’d let himself into his halls, he was fully convinced that Harry was trying to set him up on a date with his security guard.

 

He went straight to bed, briefly sticking his head into the kitchen to give a dejected look at a confused Zayn and Liam who were sitting at the kitchen table eagerly awaiting his return. He placed his phone on the pillow next to him like a prized jewel, stripped into his boxers and waited, not daring to sleep.

“He didn’t call?” Zayn asked, crouching down to inspect the bags under Louis’s eyes. He was semi-horizontal on a couch in the library, four days after speaking to Harry, laptop balanced precariously on his stomach.

“Nope.” Louis sighed, tiredly rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“Dude, you gotta get some sleep.” Zayn pushed him into a sitting position and sat next to him, leaning over his shoulder. “And, stop looking at Perez Hilton to see what Harry’s doing.” Zayn leaned over and closed a tab that Louis thought he’d hidden fully behind his timetable.

“Who needs sleep when you have Red Bull? Besides, I’ve slept.”

“Yeah, but you get up like 7 times a night to get your phone out of your drawer. You think I can’t hear you rustling around in there? He’s a popstar. He’s busy. Touring. You know this. Give it some time.”

“When did you become so logical?”

“I’m always logical. Come on. Let’s do something that doesn’t involve staring at your phone.”

They ended up going to the cinema. Louis ended up falling asleep on Zayn’s shoulder, his phone on silent and forgotten in his pocket. When they emerged into the daylight, Louis got out his phone to check the time and nearly dropped it in shock.

“I got a text! And a missed call! It’s from a number I don’t recognise! ZAAAYN! Do you think it’s him?” He tugged on Zayn’s shirt excitedly.

“Well, open it then…” Zayn encouraged, rolling his eyes.

“It says ‘hey, sorry for keeping you waiting’, oh he uses full sentences, he’s a step up from you,” Louis jibed cheerfully, nearly breaking out into song and dance outside the Odeon.

“Ha, ha, ha. What else does it say?”

“’Hey, sorry for keeping you waiting. It’s been crazy. Do you want to come to my London show on Saturday then we can get drinks afterwards? I turn 18 at midnight… winky face, Harry, kiss kiss kiss’ Oh my god. Zayn, he used a winky face. What does this mean? ZAYN!”

“You are such a girl. I thought after I moved away from my sisters that I was done with this shit… Lou, he clearly wants the dick.”

“He does not! He’s just… you’ve seen him on TV… that’s him. So should I go?”

“I don’t know. It’s up to you.” Zayn said innocently, already knowing that Louis was planning outfits in his head.

“Okay. I’m gonna go. Come on, we have to write a reply! Get Liam, we need him too! And he sent it an hour and 17 minutes ago, we better make it fast or he’ll think I’m ignoring him.”

“He made you wait 4 days, I think he can wait a little longer.”

They eventually decided on ‘Hey Harry, Saturday sounds great, I’ll see you then. I owe you a drink :P xxx” After a long debate, they decided that the tounge face was the same cheeky level as a winky face, but less pervy from a more adult perspective. Louis sent the message and heaved a sigh of relief.

“And now… we wait.”

 

* * *

 

“Great! I’ll see you then! I’ll leave the tickets for you at the box office, just tell them you’re Louis Barboy and they’ll give them to you. xxx”

The reply came through around half an hour later and Louis stared at it in confusion for a moment, before clearing his throat a few times outside Zayn’s room.

“Zayn. Zayn. Zaaaaaaaaaaaayn. Look. Zayn. Zayn?” He tapped on the door impatiently. Zayn burst out.

“What is it now?” He asked impatiently. “I do have a degree to obtain…. I didn’t come to uni to play fairy godmother to you and the winner of X Factor, I have homework to do.” As if on cue, the Skype call sounds began emitting from Zayn’s room, and Louis smirked as he faintly heard Zayn’s girlfriend Perrie worriedly asking where he’d gone. Gulping, Zayn slammed the door behind him. “So… what did he say?” He asked hastily. Louis passed the phone across, kicking his heels as Zayn read it.

“Well! Sorted!”

“Not sorted! It could be some huge practical joke and when I go to ask for the tickets using that stupid name Ashton Kutcher jumps out and tells me I’ve been punk’d!”

“I’m pretty sure Justin Bieber is the host of Punk’d now actually,” Zayn corrected, boredly glancing back at his bedroom door.

“That is NOT the point, Zayn! I can’t just go down to London to meet some random boy, even if he is… Harry.”

“Fine. Me and Pez will buy tickets too and we’ll come with you.”

“You’re going to go to a Harry Styles concert?” Louis asked, eyebrows shooting up.

“This is going to score me serious points with Perrie. Plus, from what I’ve heard, his songs aren’t that bad. And I have heard a lot of them.” Zayn said. “So it’s final. We’re going. Text him and let him know, and I am NOT helping you compose another reply!” Waving his hands, he reached for his door handle and threw a glance back over his shoulder. “Oh, and Louis?” Louis looked up expectantly. “You shall go to the ball!” He winked, disappearing back into his room before Louis could punch him.

“Barboy? Is it worth asking for an explanation? And that sounds good, thank you Harry J xxx” Louis tapped out and sent it before he could psyche himself out. Suprisingly, a reply came almost instantly.

“Oh yeah… sorry about that :$ I didn’t catch your last name the other night and I had to come up with one… thus, Barboy was born. Xxx”

“Has a nice ring to it. Come to think of it, you didn’t mention your last name either… :P xxx”

Flirting! Louis was flirting with Harry! And it wasn’t scary or awkward at all! He felt a sudden burst of short-lived confidence. Short-lived because the next reply didn’t come, though he waited and waited. After an hour of going in and out of the kitchen to eat leftovers from the fridge and playing Temple Run, he decided it was probably time to put his phone back in his drawer and do some assignments. Almost instantaneously, the text came through.

“Oh, you wound me, Louis, but I’ll play along… The name is Styles. Harry Styles. (imagine I said that in a James Bond voice). So, I told you mine. Tell me yours. Xxx”

Louis resisted the urge to squeal as he replied.

“It’s Tomlinson. Louis Tomlinson. Xxxx” Putting an extra kiss for luck, he sent it and then, satisfied, left the phone on the kitchen table and headed for the library, banishing all thoughts of curly haired boys with angelic voices until after his coursework was completed.

Saturday rolled around faster than Louis could’ve hoped and before he knew it he was queuing to retrieve his ticket. He and Harry had exchanged a few texts over the days leading up to the concert, but something sat heavily on Louis’ chest – a weight that could only be lifted when he clapped eyes on Harry again.

“Name please?”

“Um… Louis… Tomlinson? They might be under Louis… Barboy.” Louis muttered, embarrassed. The woman stared at him for a few seconds before rifling through the box in front of her.

“Here you go, Louis. Enjoy the show.” She said, handing him the ticket with a false smile and ushering him aside with her hand. Louis inspected the envelope, the word ‘Barboy’ had been scribbled out and ‘Tomlinson’ had been written on top, a heart dotting the eye. He walked back to Zayn and Perrie as though he were walking on air.

“Ready to go?” Zayn asked. Louis nodded dumbly. He spent the rest of the evening with the same dumb look on his face. When Harry bounced onto stage, the entire crowd went insane, jumping out of their seats instantly. Harry’s stage presence was intense, going from pulsating pop songs that made the room bounce and dance to soulful ballads that made each person feel as though he was singing to them personally. It was a great show, but as the night went on, Louis began to feel more and more nervous. After three encores, the house lights went back up and people began to file out. Harry and Louis had already agreed to meet afterwards at a bar down the street, and Louis was practically dragging Zayn and Perrie out the door.

“Look man, it’s not a prank. It’s gonna happen… you can take it from here.” Zayn assured Louis as they waited at the bar.

“Please don’t go.” Louis begged, panic in his eyes. “What if he doesn’t like me?”

“He does, he kept making eye contact with you during the mushy songs!” Zayn insisted. “The second Perrie gets back from the bathroom, we’re out of here.”

“You can’t leave me here alone. You cannot do this to me,” Louis hissed. “I thought you were my fairy godmother!”

“Hey.” A deep voice interrupted their argument.

“Harry!” Louis said brightly, a sudden burst of fake confidence making his voice higher than usual. “This is Zayn! He’s my room-mate… dorm-mate… mate… yeah. Zayn, Harry.”

“Nice to meet you, it was a great show.” Zayn leant across Louis to shake Harry’s hand.

“Thanks, man.” Harry smiled warmly. Then, leaning closer to Louis, he whispered low enough for just him to hear, “you brought a chaperone on our date?” Louis swallowed visibly, searching for something to say. Just then, Perrie appeared.

“Hey honey,” she said to Zayn, interlocking their fingers. Then, noticing the boys had become a trio, she dropped his hand again and grabbed Harry’s arms. “Holy shit. Harry. Hey. You’re. You. Yes. Okay. Great. Going now.” She garbled, dragging Zayn out of the bar quickly. Zayn shrugged and mimed something obscene through the window as he guided Perrie down the road to the tube station, and Louis tore his eyes away from their retreating figures and looked back at Harry Styles. Because Harry Styles was at the bar with him. On a date. Okay.

Louis ran his hand through his hair, effectively wasting the 10 minutes he had spent fixing it in the bathroom beforehand.

“That was Zayn. And his girlfriend. I didn’t… they weren’t chaperoning, they’re just… fans.”

“Good to hear.” Harry said with a cheeky grin. “So… drink?”

“Sure.” Louis nodded.

“Wait. We have to wait 4 minutes. Then I’m buying.” Harry said, indicating the large clock on the wall, which showed the current time being 11:56pm.

“Woah… when did it get so late?” Louis wondered aloud, suddenly worrying about how he was going to get a train back to Uni later. As though reading his mind, guilt crossed Harry’s face.

“I’ll get my driver to take you back after this… I’m sorry, it’s my fault… I could’ve stopped at two encores.” He blushed, shaking his fringe over his face to cover it.

“No. You were amazing tonight. You were so amazing,” Louis assured him. “And now I’m going to buy you your first legal drink, and you can drink it in precisely 3 minutes and 32 seconds. So, what’ll it be?”

“I’ll have a beer, then.” Harry told him, hopping onto a barstool and indicating that Louis should do the same. Sitting down, Louis felt his whole body relax. He could do this.

“Not vodka?” Louis joked, waving the bartender over.

“Post-show.” Harry muttered. “Don’t need the heavy stuff.”

Louis shot Harry a worried look as he ordered two beers, flashing his ID as he did so. The bartender simply nodded at Harry, recognising him. Clinking their glasses as the clock hit midnight, they each took a sip.

“Happy birthday, Harry.” Louis said sincerely. “I’m really glad you’re spending it with me.”

“Me too.” Harry replied. They stared at each other for a few minutes, caught in the moment.

“So, this is a date?” Louis asked.

“Well, since you’re paying.” Harry joked, sticking his tongue out at Louis before having another mouthful of beer. Louis shook his head to clear the dirty thoughts that Harry’s tongue antics had evoked before replying.

“Well. At least now I don’t feel creepy about dating a minor.” He said under his breath.

“I’m more mature than you. I’m world-weary.” Harry declared proudly, as though he was quoting an article about himself (which he probably was).

“You’ve been eighteen for… 47 seconds, Harry.”

“Nearly a full minute. You know what this calls for? Shots!” Harry gestured for the bartender to come over.

That was how they ended up having Harry’s second legal drink. And third.

 

The fourth came in the form of a large pitcher of sex on the beach, which they ended up sharing through straws in a booth concealed from view. Louis checked his watch anxiously, knowing somewhere within the alcohol haze that the last train would be leaving soon.

“Come back to mine.” Harry suddenly blurted out, seeing Louis’s eyes darting down.

“Rude, Styles. I’m not that sort of boy… even for international superstars like yourself.” Louis retorted teasingly, his words slightly slurred. “How are you not drunk as a skunk yet?”

“Not to… not for sex, Lou.” Louis blinked at the nickname and Harry continued his attempts of persuasion, his hand coming to rest on Louis’ thigh under the table. “Just, come on. You don’t have to worry… I have a perfectly decent spare bedroom. I don’t mind sharing though. I do sleep naked. Woah. Maybe I am drunk as a skank– skunk. Sorry Lou.”

“It’s okay… I’ll stay.” There was a desperate plea in Harry’s eyes, and once again Louis felt worried for the younger boy. Why was he so scared of being alone?

Harry flung his arms around Louis then, burying his face in his neck. Louis breathed in the scent of Harry’s hair for a moment and felt completely and utterly out of his depth. “Alright, I’m cutting you off, fresher. We’re done drinking.” Louis decided. Almost instantly, Harry’s security guard appeared from around the corner and soon they were hustled out of the back entrance into a car with blacked out windows. Harry attempted to snuggle into Louis in the backseat as Louis fumbled with their seatbelts.

“Harry, hold still.” Louis encouraged gently.

“I like you. Stay.” Harry pleaded, grasping Louis’s hand as he attempted to plug his belt in.

“I will,” Louis promised.

“Yaaaaaaaay.” Harry breathed weakly, promptly falling asleep in his seat.

 

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

Bright. Very bright. Louis groaned and rolled onto his front, pulling his t-shirt over his eyes in a futile attempt to block out the rising sun and swearing that this would be the last time he’d ever drink – in what kind of crazy acid dream world would he end up on a date with Harry Styles? Breathing an unfamiliar yet comforting smell, he opened his eyes blearily and nearly fell out of bed – or, on closer inspection, off of couch. He’d never seen this room before, but it definitely wasn’t on campus – high ceilings, art deco furnishings and the distinct lack of any mess anywhere ruled it out of being a university student’s home. Which meant that Louis’s crazy dream wasn’t so crazy after all. Last night he went home with Harry Styles.

Details flooded back to him; the security guard carrying an unconscious Harry up the driveway and into the elevator to the penthouse flat, Harry waking up long enough to beg Louis not to go home, Louis reluctantly detaching Harry’s wandering hands from his t-shirt and putting him to bed before collapsing on the sofa in Harry’s lounge. Sitting up, Louis brightened, allowing a smile to cross his face. Feeling slightly guilty, he crossed the floor as stealthily as a hungover teenage boy could, pushing the ajar door to Harry’s bedroom open gently. Harry himself was curled into a cocoon of sheets and fluffy hair, face soft and peaceful. Louis fought the urge to climb onto the bed and kiss Harry until he woke up, but truthfully it wasn’t that hard – a sleeping Harry looked closer to eight than eighteen, all traces of knowing smirks and self-proclaimed ‘world-weariness’ gone from his features. Right now, Louis just wanted to let Harry sleep a little longer.

There was a sense of awkwardness in the air as Louis deliberated what he should do next – leave? Pretend to sleep? He felt like he was the first person to wake up at a sleepover at someone else’s house and was now lying awkwardly in his Spider-Man sleeping bag waiting for his friends to wake up so they could eat breakfast. 

Breakfast! Louis could make Harry a birthday breakfast in bed!

After trying different doors in the spacious apartment (did Harry really need a separate room for his hats?) until he found the kitchen, Louis opened the towering fridge door to find it was verging on empty (ignoring the large selection of alcohol which Louis had no idea how Harry procured).   
Confused, he crossed the linoleum to the cupboards and found tins, pot noodles and – jackpot! Cake mix! He set about handwhisking the batter and singing one of Harry’s infuriatingly catchy songs to himself. From the other room he could hear the sounds of the shower and tried to ignore the fact that Harry Styles was naked a few mere steps away from him.

“You’re good,” a voice remarked, jarring Louis from his song - apparently he’d been ignoring Harry too effectively and had missed the shower turning off and Harry appearing. Whirring round, Louis felt suddenly shy, mixing bowl still clutched in guilty hands. “Are you… baking?” Harry asked incredulously, padding further into the kitchen with a look of hope crossing his face. His hair was damp and sticking up at all angles, and his eyes were sleepy and Louis really, really wanted to kiss him as he walked past to the kettle. Instead, he turned back to the bowl, stirring it absently.

“Well, it is your birthday.” He smiled. “So, cake!… Besides, you didn’t have much else in the way of groceries.” He added accusingly.

“Oh yeah… I’m not really home much. Touring, recording… doesn’t leave a lot of time for cooking. Normally I just order in. Besides, I can’t really cook,” Harry told him quietly. Louis blinked, shocked.

“What?”

“I left home at 16 for X-Factor… I never really had to learn after that,” Harry said guiltily.

“Alright for some! Right, this is going in the oven and then I’m gonna give you a crash course. Well, I’m gonna teach you to make icing.”

“Because when I’m starving, that’d be the best thing to bring me back from the brink of death,” Harry joked, hoisting himself up on a counter and sipping his freshly brewed cup of coffee as he watched Louis bustle around the kitchen. When the cake was finally in the oven, Harry tiptoed behind Louis, and started massaging his hips. Louis shuddered a little and leaned into the touch.

“Hey.” Harry murmured softly into Louis’s hair. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Coming. Drinking. Staying. Baking… Being.”

“Icing. Okay?” Louis handed Harry a smaller bowl. “And, my pleasure.” He added, dancing out of Harry’s reach to get some water. “Icing.” He said firmly. “So, what are the big birthday plans?” He enquired, putting a spoon in Harry’s outstretched hand.

“Um, none really. This so far.” Harry muttered, gesturing at Louis with the spoon.

“But, later? Aren’t your family coming over?” Harry winced at the word family and Louis sensed he’d gone too far, heart thudding in his chest. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked,”

“No, no, it’s just… they’re not. They don’t, I’m emancipated.” Harry said, and Louis felt as though he could hear the walls coming down in Harry’s mind as he prepared to let him in. “It was a legal thing – just so I could get a Visa to tour the states, it was all just a legal thing, and then it wasn’t anymore. They just kind of… stopped trying. To see me, to call me. We talk, they’re my family – but a few signatures kind of meant that they weren’t.”

“Harry,” Louis bit his lip, inching closer to the younger boy as he folded his arms around himself. It was all falling into place – the big, lonely apartment filled with unused cutlery and empty chairs, the desire not to be alone.

“It’s fine, Lou. Ancient history. I’m an adult now,” he said, cracking a smile.

“You called me Lou.” Louis accused, grateful for the opportunity to change the subject as Harry blinked at him with grateful eyes.

“Yeah, I kinda like it… do you not?”

“I dunno, you haven’t earned the right to administer nicknames yet, unless I can give you one… Har?”

“Haz?”

“Haz. I like it. Fine, we can be Haz and Lou, the baking bandits. Speaking of which, are you mixing that icing sugar with the water?”

“Was I supposed to? I thought they’d just combine, like pot noodle does.”

“You have to stir pot noodle, Haz. God, c’mere,” he said, leaning across him to stir the bowl himself.

“By the way, Lou. Just so you know, if you don’t make a move on me in the next 60 seconds, I may cry.” Harry said casually, taking the spoon back from Louis. He turned and leaned on the counter, feet on either side of Louis, holding him in place. Louis started to lean in with a smile, their lips inches apart when the oven timer beeped.

“To be continued,” Louis chuckled, and darted away before Harry had a chance to reopen his eyes. Wearing Harry’s unused oven mitts and looking incredibly at home in Harry’s apartment, he produced a perfectly baked cake. Harry giggled, pleased. “Tease,” he groaned.

“You love it,” Louis shot back, surprised at how at home he already felt around Harry.

Five seconds later they shared their first kiss, between sly bites of not-quite-cooled cake with lumpy icing. It soon deepened, Harry all but pushing Louis against the fridge, knee slipping between his thighs, indignant clinking from inside the fridge going ignored as Louis’s hands ran through Harry’s still-damp hair.

“Fuck, Lou,” Harry whispered into his mouth between kisses, his voice wrecked.

“Fuck,” Louis could feel both of their hearts beating too fast in their ribcages, as though they were trying to burst out and be together too.

An incessant beeping jarred the boys from their embrace, and Harry pulled away apologetically.

“Phone,” he muttered apologetically, placing a tiny kiss on Louis’ forehead before walking away.

“Birthday message?” Louis asked, following the taller boy into the hall.

“Shit.” Harry called, sitting on his bed and clutching his blackberry dramatically. “We’re in trouble… you got papped coming here last night. Press are asking if I’m gay…”

“What? Can’t you just say that we’re old friends on a lad’s night out? You were pretty out of it, I could’ve just been taking you home.”

“I… that’s what they want to do. How did you know that?” Harry asked.

“I read tabloid articles sometimes.” Louis muttered, sinking onto the bed next to Harry.

“About me? Why?” Harry asked, eagerly turning to Louis to make sure he didn’t avoid the question.

“I don’t know if you noticed this, but your sexuality is kind of ambiguous. And I didn’t know if yesterday was a date, or just some sympathy tickets because you drank my drink… or a prank.”

“It was a date…” Harry assured Louis, leaning over to kiss him again, then hestitating. “Wait, a prank?”

“Yeah, like Punk’d. I’d get here and get a pie thrown in my face or sent to gay reform school or something.”

“That’s completely insane.”

“I realise that now.”

“How could you not know it was a date? I think I was quite clear,” Harry said, delivering the kiss that’d been sidetracked.

“I’m glad that it was.” Louis caught the kiss with his lips and pushed Harry onto the bed playfully. Harry had just placed his phone on the bedside table when it began beeping again. Louis groaned. “Ignore it,” he begged, placing butterfly kisses on Harry’s neck.

“I can’t,” Harry sighed, reaching for his phone. He read through the message warily, a look of resignation crossing his face. “Um… this is kind of… Lou… when do you have to be back at Uni?”

“Well. I should probably let Zayn know where I am at some point, but I don’t have lectures until tomorrow,” Louis said, chewing his lip. “Why?”

“The label wants us to go on a date.”

“With each other?” Louis asked incredulously, sitting up in surprise.

“No. A double date with two girls from the X-Factor… they know that’ll squash the gay rumours. Except on Tumblr. Those fans have a whole gay agenda.” Harry laughed under his breath and looked at Louis nervously, gauging his reaction.

“Tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“Can we play footsie under the table?”

“Maybe.”

“Then I’m in.”

“Are you sure? If it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll just go with the lads night out story and leave it at that, let the chips fall where they may. It’s a lot to ask, Lou. You can walk away now.”

“No, I get how it is. It’s your world and I guess it’s gonna be my world too, if you’ll let me be part of it.”

“I want you to be.”

“Then it’s settled. We’ll go on this double date. But until then,” Louis smirked, climbing on top of Harry. “I believe we were kissing.” He peeled Harry’s phone out of his hands and tossed it onto the bed beside them.

“Liking this, Lou,” Harry laughed, leaning up to kiss him once more. “So, what do you want to do today? Until our… hot date?” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Um, this is good.” Louis said quickly, sitting back so he was astride Harry’s hips. “But it is your birthday, so you get to choose.”

“I like… cake. Let’s eat more cake.” Harry said decisively. “But kiss me first.”

A few hours of cuddling, cake and movies later, the ominous beeping alerted the boys to the fact that ‘the car’ was waiting outside.

“Don’t you ever get tired of having to do everything on schedule?” Louis enquired, seeing Harry’s shoulders stiffen.

“It’s the best job in the world, I don’t mind making some sacrifices.” Harry shrugged, then, smiling knowingly, turned to Louis. “Now, take off your shirt.”

“What?! I thought I told you I’m not that kind of guy. We have a…there’s… a car…your… the date!” Louis said, struggling to regain cognitive function when Harry’s eyes twinkled at him like that.

“No, I mean, you wore that shirt yesterday, and the paparazzi will notice. C’mon, you can wear one of mine.” Harry walked over to his wardrobe and tossed a striped top in Louis’s direction. “You like stripes, I noticed…” He smiled. Louis ran the soft fabric through his fingers, catching the label and inspecting it before putting the top down, horrified.

“Harry! Are you serious? This top cost more than my accommodation costs per month! And it’s good accommodation! There’s wi-fi!”

“Yeah, red isn’t really my colour. Besides, you can always take it off later if you want,” Harry retorted with a waggle of his eyebrows, silencing Louis. “Did you text Zayn to let him know you’re not coming home?”

“I didn’t know I wasn’t going home,” Louis said, eying Harry and running his tongue across his teeth.

“Well, I couldn’t leave you to get the train home in the middle of a Sunday night! London is treacherous,” Harry said, putting a hand to his forehead in mock-horror. “Nah, you can leave tonight if you wanted to… but you’re welcome to stay. Big lonely apartment, already gonna be a bit of a crap birthday evening since most of the birthday entourage are literally paid to be there.”

“What, they’re paying me? How much?” Louis teased, walking over to Harry as he pulled his top over his head and managing not to trip. “It’s gonna be fine, I’d love to stay another night,” he said reassuringly, smoothing down the new top and reaching up to wrap his arms around Harry’s neck and giving him a long, lingering kiss.

“C’mon, let’s go, B-list celebrities await.” Harry muttered, pulling away reluctantly with his eyes downcast and heading toward the elevator. Louis exhaled deeply and followed him. He was already nervous about what was going to happen next, but something told him that he'd follow the boy from the bathroom to the ends of the earth.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

“I can’t do this.” Louis told Harry as they stole a few ‘man talk’ moments crammed into one of the bathroom stalls in the nightclub.

“I’m sorry. You won’t have to ever again.” Harry said, anxiously gripping Louis’ shoulders. “I promise, I’ll get you back to uni tomorrow and you never have to see me again.”

“I don’t want that,” Louis whispered, edging closer to him. “I just… they’re, they don’t know about us. I thought they’d know. I can’t lead on minor celebrities!”

“You want to be a drama teacher, right? So act. It’s the role of your life, Lou-bear. Let’s go. Come out a few minutes after I do,” Harry instructed Louis , reaching for the lock and glancing back guiltily. “Thank you, for this, by the way. For all this.” He leant down for a quick kiss, lips grazing Louis’s jawline.

“It’s okay.” Louis said, leaning against the wall and watching him leave, remembering how the last time they were in a bathroom they were completely different people, and painfully recounting the memories of the last few hours as he watched the minutes tick away.

* * *

Three hours ago they were sitting in an expensive restaurant in the centre of town opposite two girls, who introduced themselves to Louis as “Sadie and Kathy” or “Kadie and Sapphie”… Louis didn’t know. Sadie/Kadie spoke with a thick Essex accent, and had blonde hair sprayed into ringlets. It shook when she laughed, her whole head oscillating like a bizarre blonde Christmas decoration. Kathy had mauve, obviously artificial coloured hair and a northern accent, and she blinked a lot. They were both nice girls, both beautiful, and if Louis had been a straight male, he wouldn’t be able to believe his luck – but as Kathy stroked her heel up the inside of his calf, Louis wanted to be anywhere but there. The only thing keeping him rooted was Harry next to him, their thighs pressed close together. Louis could feel Harry’s leg shaking, the ghost of a forgotten beat thudding out a tattoo on the wooden floor.

“So, what’s good here?” Kathy asked Louis, blinking. Louis made eye contact uncomfortably.

“I don’t know, Haz is the old pro.” Louis admitted, bumping their thighs. The hostesses had all greeted Harry by name and taken them to a booth by the window – yes, they had the perfect view of the paparazzi crowding around.

“Okay, well I hope none of you are vegetarian,” Harry smiled charmingly and the girls tittered, flicking their hair in unison. “My usual, please? Make it four?” He asked a passing waitress, who also giggled and flicked her hair. Louis raised his eyebrows, heat rising in his cheeks.

 

Was he really jealous of one of the most successful singers in the world getting female attention? He inched closer to Harry as he attempted to engage Kathy in conversation. It was awkward first date ground, and Louis couldn’t help but resent the two clueless girls for being there. They ate dinner and laughed at Harry’s stories and Louis started to find himself letting go and having a good time.

“So, Funky Buddha?” Sadie asked as Harry put her into her coat and opened the door for her. Funky Buddha was a popular elite club in London and Louis had seen photographs of Harry leaving at all hours on many gossip sites. He swallowed nervously. The paparazzi swarmed and Louis squinted, nearly tripping on his way out of the door. He felt Kathy’s hand slip into his and plastered a smile onto his face.

“What do you think Lou? The night is still young… although young Louis does have school tomorrow.”

“University. And please, we party harder than we work and I’m OLDER than you. I’ll drink you under the table again, Styles.”

“Guess we’ll see.” Harry winked at Louis before slipping his arm around Sadie’s shoulder and guiding her into a cab, Kathy and Louis tagging along behind.

A few drinks and some grinding later, Louis had had enough. There weren’t any paparazzi in the club, and the official photographer had already snapped a few photos of him. Harry had spotted him disappearing into the bathroom and that was where he was now, waiting for the correct time to leave.

“I’m gonna walk Sadie home,” Harry shouted in Louis’s ear. “I’m sorry, here’s money for a cab.” His hand squeezed Louis as he handed over a few crumpled twenties and as he pulled away his eyes repeated his apologies.

“I get it.” Louis mouthed. They left the club in pairs, Sadie and Harry (what was their couple name going to be in the tabloids? Louis started musing stupid things in his half-drunk state, Hadie and Sarry running through his mind as main contenders. Another thought running through his mind was that he really needed to stop looking at E!News) and Kathy and Louis (was he even famous enough for a couple name? Kouis? Lathy? His name was terrible. He was not cut out to be famous at all), and they got into the two cabs waiting outside. Louis smiled awkwardly at Kathy.

“Good night?”

“I’m sorry about this,” Kathy interrupted. “I know we’re just piggybacking,” Louis felt his heart sinking.

“It’s fine, I don’t mind. You’re not so bad.” He joked, smiling.

“Back to mine, then?”

“Oh… I, I have Uni. Kathy, you’re lovely, but I really don’t think that I should, because, I have to be up early, and, Harry was gonna-”

“And you’re gayer than John Barrowman on a fucking sparkly pink unicorn, now let me help you.”

“How did you know?” Louis asked, scandalised, before realising he should probably have denied it.

“You never took your eyes off him all night. Or your thighs. I get that you’re new at this whole publicity thing, but you’re gonna have to take me home or I’m gonna have to take you home if you want your golden boy to stay the National Darling.”

“My home is a bit far.” Louis admitted. “Are you sure this is okay?”

“It’s fine. You sleep on the sofa though.” Kathy told him sternly.

“Kind of used to that now.” Louis muttered. Kathy told the cab driver her address and they pulled off, driving past Harry and Sadie who were curled up in the backseat as the paparazzi chased their car. Louis felt the urge to cry or scream or turn into the Hulk and smash, but instead focused on watching the city lights go by. His phone beeped in his pocket.

“I’m sorry. I have the best ways to make it up to you.

Your Haz X”

Louis let a smile creep across his face.

“Is it worth it?” Kathy asked, noticing his change in mood.

“Every second.”

 

***

 

Louis woke up and groaned as he looked around the unfamiliar room. This was becoming a habit.

“Morning sleepyhead!” Kathy said cheerfully.

“Ug.” Louis grunted in reply. “Morning person?”

“Of course! I made burritos!” She balanced a plate on Louis’s stomach precariously and he almost retched with the strong smell of Mexican that attacked his senses.

“Burritos? What time is it?” Louis panicked, worried he’d missed his lecture. He could always catch up online, so it wasn’t the end of the world, but even still, he kind of wanted his own bed in his dingy little accomodation.

“8am…”

“What? We only got in 3 hours ago!” Louis protested, poking the burrito with a fork. It was starting to look more appetizing, and he risked a bite. It was delicious, if a little much for first thing on a Monday morning.

“Some of us have jobs. Namely, you. The paparazzi are camped outside and you need to look… well-fucked. Now eat your burrito and get on your bike, my girlfriend’s coming round in half an hour.”

“You’re…?” Louis asked, surprised. “But you seemed so interested last night! You… the shoe…? ”

“You’re not the only one with an interest in drama, Louis.” Kathy smirked, disappearing back into her room with her plate and slamming the door. Louis reached over to the coffee table where his phone was flashing with three new messages – two from Zayn and one from Harry.

“Man wtf is going on? You hvn’t come home in days! Better hav some good stories 2 tell! X”

“Lou! Pez just saw on Daily Mail site u and Harry leaving clubs separately with hot girls – wot happend? Odd revenge choice X”

Harry’s text just contained a link and an apology. Louis clicked it and watched the page load in horror.

“STYLES AND NEW BFF TAKE TOWN BY STORM” read the headline, followed by the photo of Harry, Louis, Kathy and Sadie from the club last night. Scrolling, Louis’s eyebrows shot up.

“Teen sensation Harry Styles and his mysterious handsome friend hit up the city for a second night in a row, partying until the early hours on a Sunday night. Accompanying them were two-thirds of the girl group who came third in last year’s X Factor, Kathy and Sadie of KSX. The teens were spotted having an intimate dinner in one of London’s top restaurants before stumbling to Funky Buddha nightclub, although the foursome separated into two twosomes when it came to closing time. Is Sadie Styles’ new beau? And who exactly is Kathy’s mysterious new counterpart?”

Louis closed it. “Job done! Can I see you before I go back to uni? Today. XX” He sent a quick reply to Harry and smiled. He was off the hook and Harry’s career was safe.

“Hey, mysterious counterpart!” Louis called. “This is a great burrito, I think I’m gonna head off though.”

“Back to your boyfriend?” Kathy peeked her head round the door, mauve hair half-curled.

“He’s not my…” Louis protested. “I don’t know. I have to get back to University. I can’t just disappear,”

“Okay. And Louis?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. I know you did this for him, but you’re helping me too.”

“No problem.” Louis grabbed Harry’s jumper and pulled it on as he walked out, a few cameras snapping him and asking questions.

“How do you know Harry?” “What were you and Kathy doing?” “Are you Kathy’s boyfriend?”

Louis forced a smile and mimed buttoning his lips at the same time, realising he had no idea which part of London he was in and starting to panic. He casually walked down the street and the paparazzi didn’t follow – clearly camping outside of Kathy’s house was more of a story than following her one-night-stand on a magical mystery tour of London back streets.

His phone started ringing in his pocket and he rushed to answer it.

“Hey Lou,” Harry responded, sleepy morning voice in full force. Louis felt his knees weaken a little and mentally kicked himself. He was not a 12 year old girl, he was just dating a celebrity fawned over by many many 12 year old girls.

“Harry? I have no idea where I am!” Louis blurted, crossing a road to peer in the window of a closed shop.

“Okay, give me a road name and I’ll send the car. Sadie just left so I’ll come pick you up. Did anyone follow you?”

“Umm, I’m on the… High… Street…” Louis squinted at the sign, wishing he’d eaten more of the burrito. He was starting to feel a hangover coming on. He heard Harry chuckling on the other end of the phone.

“That narrows it down Lou, really, that helps.”

“Sorry. There’s a… Brixton Chinese. Ahhhh…”

“How the fuck did you end up in Brixton? I don’t want to drive my car into Brixton!”

“You sent me home with some girl!” Louis protested.

“She was on the X Factor, I didn’t think she’d live in Brixton! Besides, I bet there are loads of Chinese shops in Brixton. Fuck. Do you have GPRS on your phone?”

“Oh yeah…” Louis said. “Sorry. I’ll text you.” Harry was laughing again. “What now?”

“You’re adorable.” Louis grinned, he could hear Harry’s smile through his words.

“I’m gonna kiss your face off when I see you.”

“Sounds threatening.”

“I’m gonna hang up now.”

“You do that. Text me your latitude and longitude.”

“That sounded vaguely dirty… text my what?”

“I thought you were meant to have a degree!”

“That’s a work in progress. If I don’t get back to Uni today…”

“Whatever! Text me where you are. I’ll be there,” Harry promised. “Bye, Lou.”

“Haz?”

“Yeah?”

“I wish I’d woken up on your sofa again this morning.”

“I wish you’d woken up in my bed.” Harry retorted, hanging up before Louis could formulate a response. Louis quickly fired up the GPRS tracker on his phone and forwarded the co-ordinates to Harry. Minutes later, a car had pulled up in front of him and beeped a tune, Harry leaning out of the window of the backseat. “Hey hottie, wanna come for a ride?”

“Always.” Louis replied, nearly tripping over his own feet in his eagerness to get into the car.

“Hey.” Harry smiled his brightest smile. “How was your night?”

“Oh, Kathy and I had hot sex. In tons of positions. Just, tons.” Louis joked, and Harry’s face fell.

“You what?”

“No, nononono, she’s gayer than both of us put together. I just slept on her sofa and then she gave me a burrito this morning. What about you?”

“Sadie tried it on with me, so I pretended to pass out. Not even joking.” Harry muttered guiltily. Louis suddenly felt a bit nauseous.

“She did…? But, why didn’t you? You were pretty drunk last night.” he stammered, thrown.

“Well, other than the fact that she was missing some rather specific apparatus, she wasn’t… you.” Harry shrugged. “You’re kind of always on my mind, even when it’s full of Tiki themed cocktails,” he reached across and squeezed Louis’s knee. “So, where are we going?”

“I need to get to Uni. So, the train station I guess?”

“Don’t be silly, I’ll drive you back to Uni.”

“Um, Harry?” The driver piped up, making the boys jump. They’d almost forgot his presence, and that he could hear everything. “You have press this afternoon, and a show tonight.” He reminded Harry.

“I’ll make it. They’re all radio interviews, right? So I’ll do them on the way to the venue. It’ll be fine.”

“I can get the train,” Louis told the driver, feeling bad. It was his job on the line too, if Harry missed shows.

“It’ll be fine.” Harry repeated. “Let’s go.”

An hour of speeding down motorways later, they were parked outside Louis’s halls.

“So, thanks for the lift.” Louis smiled, leaning across to kiss Harry.

“Aren’t you gonna show me your place?” Harry demanded, pulling away. The driver moved to pipe up. “Twenty minutes, I promise you.” Harry was out of the car and opening the door for Louis before he could respond.

“So, this is my crib,” Louis said, swiping his card to get into the building and peering into the lobby nervously. “All clear.” He grabbed Harry’s hand and tugged him up the stairs loosely, unlocking his corridor and banging on Zayn’s door. “I’m hooooome,” he called. “Going to a lecture, talk later!” There was no response. Maybe Zayn was out already. Unlocking the door to his room, he was suddenly paranoid that he hadn’t moved his dirty laundry or made his bed and told Harry to wait outside as he checked. Kicking some socks under the bed and throwing his forlorn, abandoned looking teddy into his wardrobe, he surveyed his room as Harry peeked in.

“Can I come in?” Harry asked, suddenly shy.

“’Course. It’s not really a penthouse, but it’s mine.” Louis rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, perching on the end of his bed.

“I like it.” Harry commented, running his fingers over the PS3 games neatly alphabetized on the bookshelf and the piles of books haphazardly piled beside it. “Does this door have a lock, by any chance?” He enquired, pushing it closed.

“Yeah, you can just turn that knob,” Louis said, resisting the urge to laugh at the vulgarity. “Why?” he enquired, watching Harry twisting it experimentally.

“Because,” Harry smiled, finally getting it to click. “I promised that I would make it up to you.” He smiled, walking across the floor and crouching in front of Louis to give him a kiss.

“You told your driver you’d be out in 20 minutes,” Louis reminded him, folding his arms.

“I’m insulted you’d think it’d take so long.” Harry began kissing down Louis’s neck, pulling off his jumper and t-shirt and pushing him back onto the bed in one move.

“Do you want that back?” Louis asked suddenly.

“Oh my god Louis, relax. It looks better on you. I’m not taking your jumper off because I want it back, I’m taking your jumper off because I want to look at you,” Harry threw it in the direction of the closet and resumed kissing down Louis, spreading the kisses across his collarbone and down his chest and his abs, before resting his chin just above the waistband of his jeans.

“May I?” He enquired, batting big eyes, pupils blown wide. Louis’s hips twitched involuntarily and he nodded.

“Please,” he mumbled, already growing hard.

“Are you sure?” Harry asked, crawling back up to give him a chaste kiss on the lips. Louis grinded their pelvises together in response, not failing to notice how hard Harry was or the fact he started kissing him more deeply.

“I’m pretty sure, yeah,” Louis laughed, bumping their heads together and rolling on top of Harry, which unfortunately in a single bed, meant rolling onto the floor. “Oops. Mind my playstation,” he said, moving Harry’s hair out of his eyes.

“Oi, I’m meant to be making it up to you!” Harry objected feebly.

“Maybe we can make it up to each other.” Louis said wickedly, suddenly confident as he unbuttoned Harry’s jeans, rolling so they were lying facing each other, legs still entangled. Harry hastily did the same to Louis, wriggling closer until there was nothing separating them but underwear.

“So, what now?” Louis asked. Harry leaned over and kissed him, reaching into his boxers and grasping Louis’s cock. Louis inhaled quickly, a rush of euphoria taking him over. “Haz… you… what?” He stuttered. “Fuck,” he added, before losing the ability to speak coherently completely. “Harry, I’m not gon- FUCK,”

“Come.” Harry whispered. “It’s okay, I got you,” Louis began stroking Harry’s length through his boxers and within seconds they were coming in unison, whimpering eachothers names and kissing whatever body parts they could reach.

“Wow. I really hope the girl downstairs wasn’t in her room.” Louis managed to say after a few minutes.

“I hope she was.”

“Exhibitionist.”

“You love it.”

“You should go.”

“Do you want me to go?”

“No.”

“Then I’m staying.”

“Harry, you have a job. Pretty much the most amazing job. And I have a lecture in like, half an hour, and I’ve had the same jeans on for three days, and I need to shower and, I’ll see you soon, so don’t worry.”

“When? When will you see me?” Harry asked, cuddling into Louis.

“Your next day off? I’ve seen your world, you should see mine. The bits that go on outside this room.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Harry smiled. “Text me?”

“As if I wouldn’t.”

Harry kissed him again on his way out of the door and Louis watched him go, running his fingers across his lips. The last kiss felt different… it felt like the Last Kiss. Louis shook his head, trying to clear that thought, and headed for the shower, gutted to be dragged back to the real world.


	5. Chapter 5

The next few days passed in a blur for Louis. It felt odd going through the motions, coming back from his first lecture of the week and looking at his bedroom floor and struggling to wipe the grin off his face. Zayn came into his room that night and they sat and talked about everything. Something about recounting his weekend made it even more real to him, his heart beating too hard in his chest.

“So I guess he’s not the one who got away after all?” Zayn asked, slyly taking one of the beers from Louis’s shelf and cracking it open while Louis gazed dreamily out the window at the concrete jungle of accommodation he could see from his room.

“Guess not. Although, you never know, he might get away for a third time, we didn’t arrange to meet up again…” Louis admitted sadly, climbing up from his bed and snatching the beer back to take a long sip, before passing Zayn another one. “What’s happening tonight, then?”

“Cheap pints down the union, some R’n’B night, why? Don’t tell me you’re actually going to come out with me instead of staring at your phone waiting for him? Is the old Louis making a triumphant return?”

“No, I’d say the new Louis wants an outing. I feel… different.”

“Well you have been in a bit of a dry spell, mate.” Zayn joked, leaning on the door frame. Louis narrowed his eyes. True, it had been some time since he’d been with anyone, but he’d got into a relationship early into his first year and was still reeling from the break-up. Zayn’s comment had reminded him that he hadn’t felt any concern that it was going to end badly with Harry until that kiss, and now he felt dizzy. He swigged his beer and hoped Zayn didn’t notice his mood deflate.

“So, shall we?”

“Let’s.”

Four pints and two questionable rounds of shots later and Louis was in the middle of the crowded dancefloor, shimmying alone to the awful remixes that were playing as Perrie and Zayn canoodled in a far-off corner. Drunkenly, he staggered outside to the smokers’ area and dialled Harry’s number. There was no answer and he slurred a message into the voicemail.

“Harrrrrrrrrry… I miss yoooooou already… misss your morning voice and your morning face and your morning showers.. mmmmm come back soon, promise? Oh god I’m sorry, how do I take a voishmail back? Haaaaaarrrry, call me, please, I miss you… it’s Lou, by the way. Your Lou,” He hung up and groaned, attempting to type ‘how can I erase a voicemail’ into Google and failing, instead getting google results for “how do erasure do the sail”.

“Who was that then?” a painfully familiar voice asked. Louis raised his head slowly, narrowing his eyes to stare down his ex.

“Just a guy.” Louis replied, suddenly feeling sober. “How’ve you been, Matt?” He enquired, his voice dull.

“Fine,” Matt replied, stepping closer. “I like your new jumper.” He tugged on it, and Louis stepped back, keeping his distance. It was Harry’s jumper and he didn’t want it to be associated with Matt. Their relationship hadn’t worked because Louis cared too much and Matt cared too little. It ended badly but then didn’t end, Matt calling Louis at all hours of the night for a hook-up until Zayn had to intervene, telling him that he was never going to have the relationship that he wanted with Matt, and he needed to stop before he hurt himself further. Louis looked into Matt’s eyes and couldn’t see anything of the guy he’d fallen for. All he could see was the guy who repeatedly stood him up and used him and moved on too quickly, all he could see was a guy that wasn’t Harry. Zayn was at his side in the next instant, arm round his waist, unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth and glare firmly placed in Matt’s direction.

“Matt, gotta borrow my boy, sorry lad.” Zayn said, pulling Louis away, staggering slightly when Louis stayed rigid in place. “You okay man?” he asked when they were out of Matt’s earshot.

“Yeah. I’m fine. Just made a complete fool of myself to Harry’s answerphone but I realised that I really really really don’t need Matt anymore. I need Harry. Oh god, I’ve ballsed it all up with him, I’ve been too clingy, I’ve done exactly what I did to Matt, he’s gonna leave me for some Italian exchange student!” Louis panicked.

“Idiot boy. He’s probably asleep, it’s 2:30am, just tell him you’re sorry and you don’t remember a thing tomorrow morning. Let’s get out of here, I’m feeling a bit ill. What the hell was in those shots?”

“They were called ‘hymens of the seven seas’, I’m not sure I want to know.” Louis muttered.

“Top lad. C’mon, let’s go.”

The next couple of days passed in the same way, Louis going to his classes and checking his phone periodically and getting drunk every night (but learning to leave his phone safely locked away in his room) and waiting to hear from Harry. He knew that Harry would be busy, but his radio silence felt like rejection. Stupidly, he Googled Harry’s name and saw that he’d been on a few more ‘dates’ with Sadie. That night, he drunk so much that he didn’t even make it to a club without throwing up.

Thursday morning brought a hangover and a text from Harry, saying that he missed him, he was sorry for not calling, and asking what he was doing that night. Louis considered not replying and giving Harry a taste of his own medicine, but the truth was that he missed Harry, and he knew that his heart was in the right place. He eagerly tapped out a reply and then Harry replied with “great! Sending a car to pick you up in 30 minutes, bring swimming trunks!” Louis blinked in confusion and then smiled. Guess he was going to skip his seminar this morning. What a shame.

“Where are you going?” Zayn asked. “You’re not meant to be in til 11am. Oh, no, I know that face. He called?”

“He texted. I’m going to see him. We’re going to do something involving swimming trunks.”

“Sounds kinky. What about your seminar?”

“One missed seminar won’t hurt, Zaynie, oh I’m so happy!” Louis swung around the kitchen table and kissed Zayn on the quiff, reeling back with a mouthful of VO5.

“That’s… great… So, all forgiven then? Must’ve been some text.” Zayn muttered, sipping his coffee. Louis froze, frowning.

“Why aren’t you enthused?!” He demanded, folding his arms.

“Louis, I’m not enthused about anything before 10am. I’m just saying, no word for days, and then he texts you and you just forget about the fact that you’ve been drinking yourself sick every night to forget about him? I’ve seen this all before, remember?”

“It’s different with him, you said it yourself, he’s busy. He’s on tour! I can deal.” Zayn raised his eyebrows at that. “I can deal.” Louis repeated with more conviction.

“Well, last night I had to deal with your ‘dealings’ in the bathroom last night, so I’d rather you had it out with him when you see him. Be careful, Lou, your heart is fragile. You can’t do this whole casual dating thing-”

“Don’t be such a gay.” Louis snapped back. “I know what I can do, you don’t!”

“I’m just trying to look out for you!” Zayn protested, as Louis slammed out of the kitchen. “AND GAY IS NOT A SYNONYM FOR STUPID!” He called after him, shaking his head. “This… will not be good.” He told his coffee mournfully.

A car pulled up and an unfamiliar driver offered a small, pained smile to Louis.

“Mr Tomlinson?” he asked curtly, pulling up to get out and open the door for Louis, and looking rather put out when Louis opened it himself and slid in. He must be used to opening it for pretty socialite girls, Louis mused to himself.

“Hiya,” he said, apologetic. “Do you know what I’m doing?”

“Seeing Mr. Styles, he has a concert this evening and wants you to be there,”

“Cool. Where is it?” Louis asked casually, not remembering seeing tonight as a date for Harry’s tour (not that he’d inspected it in intense detail, definitely not that).

“Amsterdam.” The driver replied, just as casually.

“What?” Louis spluttered. “Guess I’ll be skipping a few more lectures tomorrow,” he sighed, thinking that he should probably text Zayn, but reluctant to, still reeling from their altercation.

“He’s given me this box for you.” The driver said, passing the box back before he started the car again and began navigating the small roads around the accommodation blocks in silence. He took a last peek at the bemused teenager in the backseat before closing the partition between the backseat and front seat. Louis sat back in the plush leather and opened the box. At the top was a letter, the handwriting the same scrawl from the tickets that he’d left at the box office (was that really less than a week ago?). Louis opened it.

“Hey Lou,

Sorry that this is much belated, it’s been completely crazy. I know you’ll understand, but I couldn’t wait for my next day off to see you! So you have to come to this show tonight. I assume if you’re reading this then you’re already in the car, meaning that you are coming, yay! I can’t wait to see you, I’ll have my best morning voice on (in the middle of the evening) just for you!

Love,

Your Haz”

Following his name were a lot of lazily drawn kisses and a doodle of Louis in a stripy jumper. Louis checked what else was in the box, finding a first class ticket (and wincing at the price) to Amsterdam, an iPod, some sweets and cakes, and a photo of Harry winking and eating the cake that they made together. He was racked with guilt - Harry was showering him with gifts that Louis could never afford, and it was just like a snap of Harry’s fingers and they had assembled in the box. Louis texted Harry a long thank you text with several kisses and smiley faces, but it still didn’t move the lump in his throat. He knew from experience now that the only thing that would was being back in Harry’s arms.


	6. Chapter 6

Louis sat with his knees tucked under his chin, listening to the playlist that Harry had put on the iPod and looking out the window at the square fields that populated the outskirts of Amsterdam. The flight was short and sweet, barely reaching 40 minutes, and he’d been able to slip through check-in relatively quickly with his one bag and his first-class ticket. The seatbelt light pinged and he pocketed the iPod, appreciating that Harry’s music taste was actually pretty good for a pop star. Within minutes he was wandering through passport control and into the spacious airport, looking for… anything. He didn’t really know what to do next, but in glancing across the arrivals lounge, saw a man smiling awkwardly in his direction holding a piece of card saying “Barboy/Tomlinson”. Louis smiled at the memory of Harry calling him Barboy and bounced over to the man cheerfully.

“You are Tom Linson?” he asked in broken English. Louis nodded, unable to stop smiling. “We go to hotel now, wait for Styles.” He took Louis’s bag without asking and began walking toward the exit. Louis put the iPod headphones back in and turned up the Pixies song that he’d been listening to earlier, agreeing with the lyrics wholeheartedly – ‘where is my mind?’.

After dropping Louis at a hotel and telling him that he’d be picked up at 6pm for the concert, the driver pulled off, leaving Louis clutching his bag and taking in the world around him. The hotel was close to the canal, and there were people on bikes everywhere, the sun shining in the sky even though it was cold out. He picked up a map from the lobby of the hotel and wandered the streets, taking in the sights, enjoying overhearing snippets of different languages and smelling questionable smells from the cafes. Eventually he made his way back to the hotel and hopped in the ginormous shower, sending Harry a text thanking him for everything and wishing him luck beforehand. After washing his hair with the complimentary shampoo and experimenting with the various settings on the shower head (Rain? Jet? Pulse? Massage? At uni, his (shared!) shower had one setting – drizzling), he dried himself with a fluffy towel and secured it around his hips as walked back into the bedroom, stopping dead when he noticed the person lying on his bed.

“God, you took your time! That is some moisturising routine.” Harry commented, laptop resting on his stomach as he typed, not looking up at Louis. Louis all but tackled Harry, moving the laptop away and giving him a kiss before rubbing his wet hair on Harry’s shirt, lying on top of him like a damp, over affectionate blanket. Yeah, he’d definitely missed Harry a little too much this week.

“What are you doing here?!” He exclaimed, squeezing Harry’s hands to make sure that he was real.

“I moved some things around. I wanted to show you the sights, but I think you beat me to it.” Harry smiled, gesturing to the bags of souvenirs Louis had stockpiled on his way around the bustling city.

“I’m sorry,” Louis murmured, guilt setting in. “You’ve given me all this great stuff, and I couldn’t even wait for you.” He said mournfully.

“Don’t be dumb.” Harry told him, wrapping his arms around Louis’ torso. “I’ve been here before, I’m getting sick of Amsterdam! Why are there so many bikes?”

“It’s magic. I think it’s magic.” Louis smiled.

“You’re magic. Also, you’re wet. Kindly dry yourself, I am very important and must not be moistened by youths.” Harry grumbled, pushing him away gently.

“I missed you.” Louis said quietly.

“Yeah, me too. More than you know.” Harry sat up and gave Louis another kiss before pushing him off the bed. “Now get your trunks on, we’ve got places to go!” Shyly, Louis dug his trunks out of his bag and disappeared into the bathroom to change. When he returned, Harry was sitting in his own pair of trunks on the edge of bed, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Ummmmm…” Louis stuttered, losing focus completely. “What… are we doing?”

“I have a surprise for you!” Harry said cheerfully.

“A bigger surprise than flying me to a different country, appearing in my hotel room, and removing your shirt?”

“Yep.” Harry smirked, grabbing Louis’s hand and pulling him into the empty hotel corridor, dragging him into the elevator and rooting around in his pocket for a key, which he turned in the centre of a unlabelled button before hitting it.

“What floor is that?” Louis said, doing a double take at the panel.

“Special floor. My favourite part of this hotel.” The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Louis gasped as they stepped out onto a plush carpet, the walls surrounding them all windows. Candles were burning and in the middle of the room there was a giant hot tub. 

“Woah.” Louis breathed. “This is… classy.”

“I thought so.” Harry smiled, running his fingers down Louis’s bare back and planting a kiss between his shoulder blades, before shocking him completely by picking him up and throwing him into the hot tub. Louis flailed his arms, pulling Harry down on top of him into the water with a splash, completely drenching the nearby towels and extinguishing a few candles in the process.

“Ass!” Louis complained, shoving him playfully. “Whatcha doing! It took me ages to get my hair like this!”

“I like your hair like that.” Harry shrugged, resting his arms on the corner opposite Louis.

“Wet?” Louis enquired, shaking his head at his reflection in the window.

“Yeah. Come here a second, I wanna show you something…” Harry pulled Louis toward him. Louis floated over, feeling weightless and wondering if it was because most of his body was immersed in water, or if that was just a side effect of being around Harry for too long. Resting in the crook of Harry’s shoulder, he looked out of the window and saw what Harry was on about.

“You can see the whole city from up here,” Louis breathed, squeezing Harry’s hand.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it? There’s all that madness and sin going on down there, and yet in here it’s so peaceful and beautiful.”

“I thought you were sick of Amsterdam?”

“Nonsense. Look at it.” Harry scolded, offended.

“Must be pretty nice… being you,” Louis blurted, before he could stop himself.

“It is right now, Lou. It is right now.”

They sat there in comfortable silence until their skin went all pruny and the sun set and Harry suddenly remembered he had a concert to perform in a few hours.

“Shit!” He shouted, jumping out of the hot tub and grabbing a towel, tossing one at Louis, who was so blissed out that he completely missed it and it splashed into the water instead.

“What?”

“Life has reared its ugly head! What’s the time?”

“Umm, like, 7?” Louis guessed.

“Okay, that’s okay, we can work with that, come on, get dry, we have a show to do!”

“We?”

“Yep! You’re my new good-luck charm. Come on, we have outfit selection to do!”

“Sometimes, you are really gay.” Louis marvelled, wrapping a towel around his hips and following Harry into the elevator.

“You love it.” Harry smiled. He looked at the interface on the elevator as he hit the button for their floor. “Hmmmmmm, it’s only 6:50.”

“Maybe I was a few minutes out, I thought it was a pretty good guess!” Louis protested. “Wait, what are you doing?” He asked as Harry hit the emergency stop button, turning to Louis with an evil grin. Confusion turned to understanding as Harry’s lips collided with his and they tumbled to the ground, all teenage limbs and breathy whispers.

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

“What should I wear?” Harry asked Louis, throwing a pile of shirts onto the bed and surveying them critically. Louis watched him amusedly, curled up on the chaise lounge in a complimentary robe. “Lou! We don’t have time for this, pick something!” Harry wailed dramatically.

“I don’t know! You look good in anything, just put something tight and expensive on,” Louis told him, stretching out. He was more relaxed than he’d ever been in the past week, and all his niggling worries had faded. He was in a beautiful city with a beautiful boy, what could possibly go wrong? Part of his mind still played on Zayn’s reminder to define the relationship as he watched Harry select a grey button up shirt and some chinos, wriggling into them before turning to Louis with a cheeky smile. Suddenly he had forgotten what he wanted

“Now, you.” Harry announced, bouncing over and giving Louis’s hands a squeeze before pulling him to his feet and dancing him over to the bed.

“Why are you so energetic?” Louis chuckled. Their little encounter in the elevator had left him a bit legarthic, but Harry was bouncing like Tigger.

“I’m excited!” Harry scolded Louis, holding up a checked shirt to Louis’s chest before tossing it near to Louis’s bag. “Keep that, it’s your colour. But not for tonight,” Harry said, pulling on the loose knot Louis had tied in his robe and pushing it off his shoulders.

“What do I wear for tonight then, wise Stylish Styles?”

“I wish you could go like this,” Harry said wickedly, running his fingers across the love bites he’d left on Louis’s chest minutes before.

“I think I’d get arrested,” Louis muttered, rifling through the pile of clothes and avoiding meeting Harry’s eyes, suddenly shy again.

“I’d bail you out,” Harry said cheerily. “Put these on. And your jeans from this morning.” He passed Louis a shirt that probably cost as much as his tuition fees and shooed him away, reluctantly placing a last kiss on his shoulder. Louis hurriedly dressed, worried that Harry would be late to the concert. They rushed down the corridor with their pinkies entwined, stealing a last few moments of coupledom before they would have to act like friends for the cameras and fans waiting outside the hotel.

A couple of security guards guided Harry through the revolving door and into the maelstrom of screaming foreign girls, parting them like the red sea. Louis stood around behind the door, before Harry’s familiar old security guard appeared and pulled him through the door with a firm, caring hand. Louis smiled gratefully and covered his face with his hand, concealing his eyes from the flashing cameras. They tumbled into the back of a limousine with blacked out windows and Harry gave Louis’s hand a fond squeeze.

“Sorry.” He said again. “It’s not like this all the time.”

“It’s fine,” Louis replied, blinking a few times to adjust to the change in light. “I don’t mind. At least we’re together, right?”

“Yeah.” Harry scooted closer to Louis, resting his head on his shoulder.

“Seatbelt on, Harry.” The driver said, closing the division between the front seat and the back as he did so.

“Just drive safe.” Harry retorted, before turning back to Louis. “Drink?” he asked, pulling down the back of one of the seats and pulling out a bottle of champagne and two glasses. Louis smiled and took one, watching Harry carefully pour them as the car moved smoothly through the narrow streets of the city, headed towards the Music Hall.

“Cheers,” Louis smiled, clinking their glasses together and taking a sip. “Oh my god, it’s like heaven!” He exclaimed, holding the bubbles on his tongue. Harry smiled proudly and drained his glass, hastily pouring another.

“Easy, Harry, you’ve got a gig in a few hours,” Louis scolded, concern flooding his features. “Do you really have to go so hard? It’s not even dark out,”

“Sorry, mum.” Harry snapped, before catching himself. “Sorry.” He repeated. “I’m just scared.” He reached up and gave Louis a kiss on the chin, apologetic.

“You’re amazing, you shouldn’t be scared.”

“One day they won’t be waiting outside the hotels and in the alleys and in the queue at Starbucks, and I’m gonna kiss all the boys I want, wherever I want. All the boys being you, if you wanted.” Harry told Louis, intertwining their fingers.

“Since you mentioned it,” Louis said, taking a deep breath. “What are we… doing… here?”

“We’re going to a concert?” Harry replied, confused.

“I meant, us. Are we, dating?”

“Do you want us to be dating?”

“Yes, sort of, a lot.” Louis admitted.

“Then we’re dating.” Harry said simply.

“You sure? I don’t wanna push you into anything, I know it’s hard, you are, well, you…”

“I am positive. I want you all to myself!” Harry protested, firmly.

“Me too,” Louis agreed. “So, we’re boyfriend and boyfriend. Harry Styles… is my boyfriend.” It felt weird on his tongue, like something a 12 year old would try and convince the mirror every night.

“And Louis Barboy Tomlinson is my boyfriend.” Harry smiled. “That’s new.” He said to himself as an afterthought. “Cheers!” He clinked their glasses together and took another swig, watching Louis’s reaction carefully, satisfied when he wasn’t chided for taking a drink. “So, boyfriend, what do you think of Amsterdam?”

“It’s beautiful. Thank you. Really,” Louis said sincerely, reluctantly tearing his gaze away from his boyfriend (!!!!!!!) to look out the window at the canals and cyclists that populated the city.

“I’m just happy you’re here,” Harry said. “And now, we’re here, so, shall we?” Louis looked out of the window at the giant venue and gulped.

“Woah, better you than me.” He let out a low whistle, reminded that it could’ve been him selling out that building. He shook off the thought, safe in the knowledge that he’d never ever have the confidence to stand in front of a crowd that big. They climbed out of the car and headed through the stage door, not running into any fans, Harry heaving a sigh of relief and bumping Louis’s hip with his own as they walked into a dressing room. “An hour and a half, Harry!” An excited looking woman with a headset reminded him before disappearing down the corridor. Harry pushed the door closed behind her, turning to Louis with a smile.

“Alone at last,” he sighed, wandering over to the mini-bar and throwing a Toblerone in Louis’s direction.

“Thanks,” Louis responded, sitting on the edge of a stool and watching as Harry settled down and began applying make-up. “Are you… putting… eyeliner… on?” He couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Not well… I told them that I could do my make-up myself since I wanted to spend more time with my ‘old friend’ before the show!” Harry buried his face in his arms, laughing in spite of himself.

“Come on, I’ll do it, years of nights out at Uni have prepared me for exactly this moment,” Louis assured Harry, walking over and planting himself in Harry’s lap, taking the eye pencil out of his hand. “Look up,” he told him, gently lining his eyes with the brown pencil. “…it looks no different.” He commented after a few moments, leaning back to admire his handiwork.

“Apparently it does in pictures...” Harry said guiltily. “Sorry. Again. You’re not meant to be my employee…”

“Close your eyes.” Louis told Harry, putting the pencil on the side as Harry obliged, ridiculously long eyelashes fluttering shut. Louis wrapped his arms around his neck and leaned in to kiss him deeply, enjoying the new angle. “Do your employees do that?” he asked innocently, pulling away.

“I think I’d have to arrange a sexual harassment talk if they did.” Harry said cheerily, nuzzling his head into Louis’s chest and running his large hands down his thighs. “Right, gotta put some foundation on, and then I’m all yours. We can talk about stuff! Uni stuff, I’m interested in hearing about your Halloween nights which involve putting eyeliner on teenage boys,”

“Standard really,” Louis said, climbing off of Harry and passing him a makeup brush.

“Like, what?” Harry asked, laughing. “I have no idea what standard is, the most I’ve seen of Uni life is from backstage of dingy unions.”

Louis was silenced by this. When he thought about how close he’d come to being in the limelight, he thought about all the things that he was missing out on, and never considered things that he would’ve missed out on if he’d stayed on the show – he took his normal life for granted, and Harry had no recollection of what a normal life was like.

“I told you, I wanted to show you my world. So, whenever you’re ready to step into the dingy union, just let me know. But trust me, this,” Louis said, gesturing around the room and taking a bite of the complimentary toblerone, “is far superior to any night out I’ve had at uni. Or, my life.”

Harry looked taken aback.

“It’s just some standard shitty little back room, the same as all the others.”

“You don’t know how good you got it, don’t wish it away.”

“Okay, sometimes it can be pretty good. Like right now, sitting backstage at a sold-out show with my new boyfriend who is rather wonderful at doing makeup and totally wants to put my foundation on for me, that’s pretty good. I could get used to that.”

Louis picked up the makeup brush and dipped it in the pot, muttering “me too,” to himself softly.

Harry and Louis were lying on the carpet, legs crossed over each other, throwing a ball between themselves and singing old songs to help Harry with his vocal warm ups when the peppy girl from earlier burst in.

“10 minutes, Harry!” She announced, before disappearing as abruptly as she appeared.

“Showtime,” Harry whispered, sitting up reluctantly and kicking Louis fondly to move his legs so he could get up.

“Break a leg.” Louis joked, wrapping his knees around Harry’s remaining leg briefly before wriggling backwards and leaning against the wall, legs crossed. “Oh, wait!” He said, reaching out to brush the dust off Harry’s trousers. “You’re filthy,”

“Oh, you have no idea.” Harry winked, hastily patting his jacket down simultaneously.

“I think I do,” Louis smiled. “So, where do I wait for you?”

“Um, backstage, if you want? They might want you to try to…”Harry broke off, looking at his boyfriend with a pained expression on his face.

“Stay out of view?” Louis finished sadly.

“Sorry. Really, I am.” Harry looked forlorn, resenting the ‘they’ that signed his paychecks.

“Stop apologising! It’s not your fault,”

“It could be you on that stage, Lou. You’re good. You can sing, you know.”

“Not like you. I could never stand out there and just do it. Never again,” he shuddered, remembering the pain of his name not being called at boot camp.

“Never again?” Harry asked, an inexplicable look crossing his face. Just then, the girl reappeared.

“Harry! We need to fit your microphone! Come on,” She said, holding the door open with her foot and tapping the other impatiently .

“This isn’t over,” Harry frowned. “I’ll see you out there. Every word is for you tonight.” He promised, disappearing down the corridor. Louis followed at a slower pace, feeling more out of place than ever. Seeing the driver from earlier standing at the side of the stage, he sidled over and stood nearby, hoping nobody was going to ask him for ID or wonder why he was backstage. Thankfully, the staff all seemed relatively laid back and focused on changing the stage from the support act to Harry’s firework-filled opening backdrop and getting Harry himself onto the stage. The support act – a runner up from the X Factor the year Louis and Harry both auditioned - walked past and Louis took the opportunity to introduce himself since he was the only person within the same age range behind the curtain.

“Hey, I’m Louis! Harry’s, uh, friend. You were great last week at the London show,” Louis said, plunging forward and offering his hand. The guy shook it cheerfully, his hand slightly sweaty and shaking from the adrenaline of the screaming fanbase outside. Louis had only just taken note of it – he was getting used to the high pitched decibels of yelling wherever he went.

“Hey, it’s you from the papers! Nice to put a face to the name, Harry doesn’t normally bring friends to Europe! I’m Niall,” Niall said warmly, Louis picking up on the thick Irish accent he remembered from watching the X Factor live shows. “Hey, did you want to come sample the Amsterdam nightlife after the show? I’ve never been here, Harry said he’d show me the sights, but if you’re here…” he trailed off.

“No, of course, that’s fine!” Louis assured him, gulping back the tide of jealousy that swept over him for no reason. “I’ve never been here either,” he added.

“Great, I’ll start petitioning Paul to let young Harold off the leash then,” Niall said wickedly, his blue eyes sparkling. “Watch out, Dutch girls aged 18-35…”

“Woo,” Louis said, his voice dripping with falseness which Niall didn’t pick up on. Harry was suddenly behind Louis, hands on his shoulders.

“Hey, Louis, I need you to redo my eye makeup,” he boomed, smiling apologetically at Niall. “Niall, Lou, Lou, Niall,” he waved his arms between the two, stage persona taking over already. “Bathroom, now, please,” he whispered low enough for Louis to hear, before tugging him away.

“Your eyes look fine, Haz,” Louis said, inspecting Harry’s face in the luminescence of the bathroom.

“You are clueless sometimes,” Harry sighed, pushing Louis into the door of the bathroom and kissing him. “I, needed,” he said between kisses, “a, kiss, for, luck.”

“That was like 6,” Louis said, backing away with a smile on his face. “What if someone walked in?”

“You’re against the door, how would they do that?” Harry enquired, flicking his eyes up and down Louis and rolling their hips together.

“Harry, you have to be onstage literally right now, keep it in your pants!” Louis spluttered, finding it harder and harder to resist him.

“Boring,” Harry muttered, stepping back. “Okay, one more kiss for luck?” Louis obliged, dipping him like a movie star and making sure not to bang his head on the sink in the process.

“Now, go! Be fabulous!” Louis said, shoving him out the door and leaning back on the wall, heart in his mouth.

“It’s all for you!” Harry called, skipping down the corridor in double quick speed without looking back, drinking a quick glass of something that wasn’t water-coloured at the side of the stage before throwing it down and bouncing onto the stage with a smile.

“Alright, Amsterdam?” he called into the microphone, and the screams were deafening, making the ground beneath Louis’s feet tremble slightly with the force. Louis walked down the corridor and took a seat in Harry’s eye line, behind the curtain slightly. As Harry got the crowd worked up to his new single, Louis found himself relaxing a little. It was just like being really close to a concert… a concert where you’d just made out with the lead singer in a bathroom a few minutes ago. He was struggling to reconcile private Harry, his new boyfriend who flew him out on romantic weekends to European continents, with public Harry, the boy who sold out stadiums but needed a shot of vodka to get onstage, even though he was barely 18. Harry Styles was a fascinating creature, and Louis felt like private Harry was worth the difficulties that came with being with public Harry. But public Harry was breathtaking, waving to young girls in the audience, climbing down to the barrier to tell someone not to cry, making sure another was lifted out safely when she fainted, calling her beautiful and not restarting the concert until he knew she was okay. He was the perfect pop star as always. He did five or six songs before coming offstage quickly and having a swig of water, walking over to Louis happily.

“You okay? Liking the show?” He asked, careful to stand in front of Louis in case someone had a good camera and the right angle before leaning close to yell in his ear.

“Best seats in the house,” Louis told him. “You’re amazing.”

“You are.” Harry corrected, poking him in the chest and taking a last long glug of water. “Well, duty calls,”

“Good luck!” Their fingers brushed for a moment as they parted, Harry falling back into his role as charismatic singer the second he was back in the spotlight, but his eyes kept flicking to Louis during the next song, and as it finished, he started a long speech to the crowd.

“Hey, guys, I have something special for you. My mate Louis, you might have seen him out and about with me lately, he’s kind of good at singing! But he’s a bit shy; reckon we can convince him to come out?”

Louis froze, shaking his head as Harry approached him. 

“What?! No. No, no, no, no!” he mouthed as Harry grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him out from behind the curtain.

“So, got any suggestions for what we should sing?” This question was met with indistinguishable screaming, as someone pushed a microphone into Louis’s shaking hand and attached some wires to his belt, slipping a earpiece into his ear as he stood rigidly. Harry had dropped his wrist to pick up some flowers that had been thrown onstage, and Louis finally understood the whole ‘alone in a crowd of thousands’ thing. Also, the whole public speaking fear thing, he definitely understood that.

“Agghhhh?” Harry bantered. “I don’t know that one, but me and Lou were singing the single I released as my winner’s single for the X Factor earlier, maybe you’d like that? Would you?” The crowd roared in response. To be honest, Louis expected that the crowd would roar in response if Harry asked them if they liked tomatoes, or communism, or the fact that he was in a relationship with a boy – oops, maybe not that last one, if the furious all-seeing eyes of Harry’s management were anything to go by.

Harry gestured to the guitarist to start plucking out the tune of Damien Rice’s ‘Cannonball’, and Louis couldn’t help but commend the choice – they had discovered earlier that their voices sounded great together on it (actually their voices sounded great together on most things, including Christmas carols, which Harry loved to sing all year round) and it wasn’t a typical love song, so management would be able to pass it off as a friendship duet.

“There’s still a little bit of your taste, in my mouth, there’s still a little bit of you laced with my doubt, it’s still a little hard to say what’s going on,” Harry sung, crouching down to hold the hand of a girl in the crowd. Louis hung back and the guitarist stopped, looking at him expectantly. Harry looked up nervously.

“Like before,” he mouthed.

“There’s still a little bit of your ghost, your witness, still a little bit of your face I haven’t kissed, you step a little closer each day, that I can’t say what’s going on,” Louis sung, unaware if he was even saying the right words. The crowds cheered him on anyway and he felt himself letting go, taken back to the X Factor auditions where the encouragement of the crowd had spurred him on to sing well. Not well enough, but a taste of Harry’s success was enough for a lifetime. They sung the chorus together, standing well apart on the stage. Louis hated this distance, wanted to hide behind Harry or hide behind a curtain or just hold his hand and sing the words to him back in the dressing room. They sung the next few verses taking a few lines each, and then the chorus together. The crowd were eating it up, and Harry couldn’t help but grin at Louis, that infectious grin that Louis couldn’t help but grin back at. Soon he was smiling at girls and cameras in the audience awkwardly, swaying and trying to forget how much trouble Harry was going to be in the second the show was over. The song ended and Louis curtsied. Harry hugged him briefly.

“You’re amazing,” he murmured into Louis’s shoulder. “Thank you,” then, to the crowd. “Let’s hear it for Louis Tomlinson! Pop star in the making, isn’t he? Reckon our Niall’s got some competition for the opening slot!”

“Thank you,” Louis said, doing an odd, jerky little curtsey and disappearing offstage with a wave. He sunk into his chair and exhaled, shaking all over. “Jeeeeeeesus,” he breathed to himself. “Wow.”

The rest of the concert passed by quickly, Harry throwing cheeky little waves and the occasional flower or card and, at one point, a bra in Louis’s direction, making sure that he knew that he wasn’t forgotten about. Harry did two encores as always, and then dragged Louis on stage for a third, Louis groaning and covering his face with his hands.

“Here’s the star of the night! Upstaging me a bit, I think!” Harry accused, hamming up a rivalry between the two for the audience. “Take a bow, Louis Tomlinson! Remember that name, you’ll be hearing it a lot!” Louis bowed again meekly, blushing. “Shall we do another song?” The crowd roared, assumedly in the affirmative. “I’m feeling a little singalong, what about you, Lou?” Louis shook his head, knowing already that his attempts to avoid it were in vain. “I say Louis picks the song this time.”

Louis smiled, a plan forming - time to give Harry’s management and Uncle Simon a good ol’ fuck you, since Harry had basically given him the go-ahead… he walked over to the guitarist and drummer and told them the song he wanted them to sing. A fun, poppy Beatles song – I Want To Hold Your Hand. The guitarist started playing it instantly and the drummer caught on quickly. Harry smiled when he recognised the song, though it was slowed down slightly, making it melodic and almost romantic. Perfect.

“Oh, I’ll tell you something, I think you’ll understand, when I say that something, I want to hold your hand. I wanna hold your hand, I wanna hold your hand.” Louis smiled. He didn’t hold Harry’s hand. He didn’t have to. He was pretty sure the entire audience could tell he wanted to – at least, those who weren’t staring at Harry and wanting to hold his hand. Which was the majority of the audience…

Louis suddenly began to have doubts , fearing that he’d done more harm than good with his impromptu declaration of love. The tabloids were going to be great tomorrow – “Harry’s Holland homo hand-holding!” or something more catchy and equally crass. Harry started singing then, and Louis forgot everything but Harry’s voice, breaking slightly as he sung.

“Oh please, say to me you’ll let me be your man, and please say to me you’ll let me hold your hand,”

Harry bounced up to Louis and away again, indicating with a pointed finger that they should sing the next part together.

“And when I touch you, I feel happy inside, it’s such a feeling that my love, I can’t hide, I can’t hide,” Harry sung, pointing at someone in the audience (Louis swore he saw her swoon). Harry started dancing in the musical interlude, spinning a pirouette around Louis as the crowd whooped appreciation. Louis smiled and let Harry finish the song, basking in his talent for a few more moments and then basking in the applause, taking a moment to take it all in. Maybe it wasn’t coming out. Maybe it wasn’t a conglomeration of public Harry and private Harry. But it was enough. On stage, singing a love song to his boyfriend as thousands of people watched, and feeling like it was the most natural thing in the world – it was enough.


End file.
